


In The Shadow Of Your Heart

by TheJaskiestOfThemAll



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Character Death, Heartbreak, Hurt Jaskier, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Sad boi hours, for most of them, hurt geralt, jaskier and julian are different people, many sad hours, shadow!jaskier, they are all idiots, will add tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26112631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJaskiestOfThemAll/pseuds/TheJaskiestOfThemAll
Summary: Jaskier is a shadow and he will disappear one day, either Julian will die or he’ll be forcibly called back to his heel. He can’t give Geralt hope and have it being ripped from his fingers without a word. He knows that Geralt would try to find him, would stop at nothing. But he would search for the rest of his long life because shadows aren’t real and they leave no trace when the darkness comes in.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier & Countess de Stael, Jaskier & Julian, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 76
Kudos: 161





	1. Nightcall

**Author's Note:**

> Bonjour!  
> I would like to say a big thank you to apricat-antlers for betaing this fic (I LOVE YOU). Without them I would have had so much more problems with, well, everything. The curse of not being a native English speaker. Anyway! I have already written a few chapters for this week so it will be updated each week for the next few weeks (after that it's free for all and I don't take responsibility for the update schedule).  
> Special shout out to my discord group you guys are the best and I would die for you.

Run

Run Faster. 

Julian needs to run faster. He needs to get away from the castle and his uncle. The horrible man had taken over his home after his mother had died in childbirth with his little sister. His father had been overcome with grief and had gone hunting alone, never coming back.

He may be a few weeks short of seven years old but he knows what he wants and this life isn’t the one he wants. He doesn’t want lessons and bruises. He wants music and laughter. Julian wants freedom. 

This plan will give him that, he’s sure of it. He’s going to find the old fishing boat left at night by the fisherman, who sneak into taverns to get drunk behind their wives backs’. He’s going to push it into the sea and get away. 

Julian is determined to find a way to go to Oxenfurt and become a bard- no, and become the _best_ bard. He’s going to have an army of loyal fans who will love him for his music and his talent and he’ll never be hurt again. He’ll take a stage name and his uncle will never be able to find him.

He continues running through the forest as fast as he can. It’s not as fast as he wants but he’s only six. He can only do so much. 

He looks up at the rapidly darkening sky. He needs to get to the boat before the fishermen come back and before his uncle comes to get him for his evening lessons.

He doesn’t see the treacherous root peeking out of the ground and trips, face-first into the sand.

Oh, that is disgusting. He frantically tries to wipe the sand away from his tongue- wait, sand? Sand! 

He looks up. 

He can see the sun setting on the horizon. It’s making the whole shore look golden and giving the cliffs deep dark shadows. The waves crash harshly against the cliff slowly taking pieces away into the depths. One day nothing will be left of this place. Julian smiles. He won’t miss it.

He gets to his feet shakily and breathes. Julian starts running toward the closest cliff where he knows the boat is waiting. He’s almost there. He can taste freedom (it could also be the leftover sand though). 

He can see it now, the boat lays in the darkness of the cliff. Its hull, a discoloured reddish-brown, with no trace left of the blue paint that the fishermen use to denote the boat as belonging to the viscounty. 

Julian grins. Finally! He can leave this cursed place. He puts his little hands on the bow and pushes with all his might. He needs the boat to go into the water so that he can sail to Oxenfurt. 

It won’t move, why won’t it move!

“Move! Stupid boat!” 

The boat is stuck in the sand and Julian isn’t strong enough to move it. He falls to his knees in the sand and digs. Maybe if he gets the sand out from the sides of the boat it’ll be easier to push. But no matter how much he digs, sand always goes back into the hole he’s made. 

Tears fall from his eyes and glide down his cheek before hitting the ground and wetting the sand. This boat was his only hope. It was supposed to carry him away. 

“It’s not fair!” He sobs

“What is not fair, child?”

Julian startles and sharply looks up. No one was there a minute ago! He’s supposed to have time before anyone comes for him or the boat!

It’s a woman. No one he’s ever seen before. She looks down at him with emerald green eyes from the bow. He knows they are emerald green because he’s seen them in his uncle’s jewelry collection. She continues to stare at him unwaveringly. The freckles on her pale skin seem to dance with the rays of the sun hitting the waves of the sea and her red hair floats in the air without any assistance from wind. She looks like a song, something ethereal and unknowable but that you try so hard to perfectly capture. 

She smiles, “What is not fair, child?” She repeats. 

“I-I’m-” Julian bumbles while hastily wiping the tears from his cheeks.

She laughs. It sounds like wind through branches of a willow tree, “Do not be shy, come.” She extends her hand and her pale green dress flows perfectly with her movement. It seems to be moving with a mind of its own but that’s foolish, clothes aren’t alive.

He takes her hand- her skin is softer than anything he’s ever touched- and she pulls him up to her. 

She pushes a longer strain of hair behind his ear, “Speak child, no harm will come to you.”

“ I- I want to leave this place! I hate it! There’s no one here for me, everyone hates me! I’m all alone…” Tears start welling up in his eyes once more, “I want to be free and go learn how to play music and be happy!”

She gives him a pitying look, one he’s seen countless times in the streets of Lettenhove. ”Destiny has plans for you, child, I cannot do much,” She looks behind him for a minute then gazes back at what is left of the sun, “But I can ease your loneliness, close your eyes.”

Julian closes his eyes and hears the women get off the boat. He hears her bare feet hit the sand and her steps as she walks behind him. He can see the sun setting through his eyelids, so bright even now. He feels hands on his shoulders and breath at his ear.

“You’ll never be alone again after tonight.” She chuckles, “ Man _has_ always said that their shadows were their most loyal companions.”

Then he feels….something. A feeling that starts in the middle of his chest and grows. It reaches out through him trying to catch an invisible prey. It spreads in his limbs and in his face. It is cold and warm, sad and relieved at the same time. It seeks to stay but it seeks to leave. The sun disappears and so does the feeling.

He collapses on his back in the sand. Julian is exhausted and breathing harshly. He has so many questions. He opens his eyes. 

His face stares back at him.

It grins. “ Hi!”

Julian blinks. “...Hi? Who are you?”

The other him laughs, takes his arm and pulls him up until he’s on his feet. “I’m you silly!”

“You can’t be me! I’m me!” 

The other him purses his lips and frowns. “Can’t we both be you?”

“No? No!” 

“Then who am I?” 

Julian puts his hands on his hips. “Easy! You’re you!”

The not him mimics his pose. “But who is me?”

“Whoever you want to be!”

Not him makes a confused face. It must be complicated to become someone. Julian has had a lot of practice at being someone. He could help not him.

“First you need a name.”

Not him opens his mouth-

“No, it can’t be Julian, that’s my name.”

Not him pouts. “But it’s haaaaard to choose a name.”

Julian grabs his hand. “How about you use that name I was going to use as a bard? It’s Jaskier.”

“I like it. Jaskier...Yes.” Not hi- _Jaskier_ grins, “Wanna be friends?” 

“Yes!”

Julian smiles, he hasn’t felt this happy in a long time. Jaskier is going to be his best friend. He’s never going to leave him. 

Julian explains to Jaskier his escape plan and they start to push the boat again. But it’s too late and Julian’s uncle has come for him.

The man looks completely taken aback at seeing two Julians on the beach. But he doesn’t let his surprise stop him. He grips both boys by the arm, squeezes and drags them back to the castle promising a good beating to them both for disobeying.

None of them ever see, in the darkness of the night, that neither of the boys possesses a shadow.


	2. Harden, my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's for the best, but why does his heart hurt so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks to my beta and love of my life.

Jaskier sits by the campfire waiting for Geralt to come back from his hunt. He turns a branch into the fire watching it burn slowly. He can’t seem to grasp that he’s finally here. He’s finally found where he wants to be for the rest of his life. It had taken so much but he’d do it again if he had to.

*

He’d left Lettenhove at night while Julian was sleeping. He’d wished Julian would have come but years of being twisted by noble education and of being beaten into submission at any given opportunity had changed his friend, his brother. 

Jaskier had escaped most of the noble treatment, after all, ‘bastard sons’ (a perfect explanation; a way to discredit the late lord of Lettenhove without bringing freaky shadow magic into it) didn’t deserve the same as the full-blooded ones. Sure he’d had to go to a few classes but he’d escaped the most in-depth ones.

Jaskier used to run the streets while Julian was in lessons, trying to make themselves some savings that would be used to flee with (and that their uncle couldn’t take). He’d listen to the chatter of the fishing town and go tell Julian what was transpiring outside. If Julian couldn’t go outside, then Jaskier would bring the outside to Julian.

When they turned sixteen and Julian finally became the official viscount of Lettenhove, they made their uncle leave for an early retirement (no they did not kill him, unfortunately, he still had powerful contacts in the country). 

Jaskier had thought that this was their chance. Their chance to leave Lettenhove and go to Oxenfurt. But Julian wouldn’t hear anything of it. 

“Forget Oxenfurt and those silly ideas, we belong here.” He had sneered.

“What are you saying? We’ve never belonged here! Oxenfurt is you- _our_ dream!”

Julian hadn’t looked up from the report of the town’s earning, “Dreams are for children and a viscount cannot be a child”

“You can if you leave this place and that title behind!”

Closing the book, Julian had walked to the window overlooking Lettenhove, “Look at them Jaskier.” He’d extended his arm over the square, “This place is falling apart, I cannot just leave when I can do something to help."

“They’ve never cared for you! Why do you throw away your happiness for them!” Jaskier had exclaimed, “I love you, please let us go to Oxenfurt.”

“No.”

“If you don’t want to go at least let _me_ go” Jaskier had pleaded fervently clutching his old battered lute.

Julian’s eyes had turned frigid and his voice poisonous. “You are my shadow, you belong to me and you will stay here.” 

It had taken him aback. He never thought he’d hear something so vicious come out of Julian’s mouth. At that moment no more was he the kind, loveable man that loved to sing and dance. He’d become what he’d always wanted to avoid becoming. His uncle.

He needed to leave.

So he left. He ran. He took a boat and sailed. The lessons that the fishermen had taught him in his youth still fresh in his mind. Know your stars, they will guide your way. He’d gone the closest he could to Oxenfurt and walked the rest of the way. 

At first, he did odd jobs here and there trying to make enough money to pay the enrolment fee. He’d lived on the streets and ate trash. He survived and kept a low profile. He knew Julian would try to find him. He could have changed his name but it was the last thing he had left of the old Julian. 

He’d started singing in brothels in exchange for a room to sleep for the night. He’d learned a _great_ many things in those places. By luck, an old Oxenfurt professor had been a loyal client of one the brothels, _The Red Sail_ , and had heard his talent. 

He’d been accepted at the university and spent the next years studying, partying and enjoying _everything_ the city had to offer. 

But Oxenfurt could not contain his need for adventure; he left the city the same day he got his diploma. 

The first few months were….not good. The people were horrible, the public atrocious. The roads were filled with dangers that he was not at all equipped to handle. There was even a time where he considered returning to Lettenhove, returning to Julian. 

But then, Posada.

Where he met Geralt.

Who unknowingly had saved him from having his wings clipped once more. Who tried to save everyone he could. 

Geralt was rough on the outside but so soft on the inside. He loved Roach and helped children. He took jobs without pay to help starving farmers. 

He looked like spring after a rough winter. His eyes were like the spring sun; warm and comforting. His hair, the eternal snow on the highest mountain. His smiles, rare as they were, looked like the most beautiful flower and they made him feel like he had the world’s whole butterfly population in his stomach. 

He sometimes gave flowers to Jaskier or bought him a new pair of boots. He stopped more often than he needed to help Jaskier. How could people not love this man was the world’s greatest mystery.

He was a whirlwind taking Jaskier higher and higher and Jaskier knew that if he fell he could break his neck.

He fell. The pain was worth it. 

His love was unrequited but that was how it should stay. Jaskier was a shadow, not a real person. And Geralt deserved something real, something tangible, not someone that could disappear at any moment. 

It was better that way.

*

A branch cracking makes him leave his musings. Jaskier turns around and sees Geralt coming through the trees. He doesn’t look injured nor does he seem to be in any kind of pain.

He seems to be dragging something behind him. It looks.. very big.

“Please tell me you didn’t drag the whole monster back here.”

“It’s a boar.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Geralt drops the carcass near the fire and starts to butcher the animal, “A boar.”

Jaskier grins, “So you’re telling me that the horrible monster that has been terrifying the village is, in fact, a really big pig?”

Geralt looks at him but doesn’t stop cutting the animal into pieces, “A really big and _dangerous_ pig.”

“That is priceless! Oh, the song this will make! Yes, I can already hear it!! “ He stands up and faces an invisible crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen, listen and listen well how the white wolf defeated the-” He stops and looks at Geralt”-what should I call it Geralt?”

Geralt grunts.

“Thank you! How our White Wolf has defeated the Calydonian Boar! The great beast of the forest!” He pauses, “And here I would start the music but say no more, to make them simmer a bit.” He twirls on himself, “In the darkness of the night, It’s eyed glowed with the souls of the innocent, from its mouth it breathed lighting and it’s hide shone like the purest diamond-”

“Jaskier, shut up.”

“Not today my dearest witcher. Now, would it be better if it breathed lighting or if it had snakes as a mane...”

He continues talking about his wild description of the imaginary boar while Geralt cooks it for their dinner. He can’t take his eyes from the Witcher, glowing in the campfire light, golden and beautiful. He doesn’t really know what he’s talking about anymore but it doesn’t really matter, he’s learned to talk about everything and nothing at the same time, just to make the conversation keep going. 

He only stops when Geralt gives him a piece of the boar while sitting next to him by the fire, with a grunt and a command to _eat._ The pig is actually good, they haven’t had fresh meat in a while. The last few contracts had been in marshes and swamps and- while completely consumable- animals from those places always taste of mud and shit. Not the best dinner. 

There’s also the bugs. _Urgh_. The big blood-sucking insects and the flesh-ripping ones always flying around waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. He hates them so much, whose good idea was it to make these kinds of things? He’d like to have a word. He won’t bring his knife, promise. 

That knife has been probably the first gift Geralt had ever given him. It was after another bar fight, probably because someone had insulted his Witcher, but he remembers that he’d thrown the first punch. The rest is a bit fuzzy, he’d gotten a chair over the head and Geralt had needed to give him a few stitches. He’d also given him a simple knife with clear instructions to not stab himself with it.

He keeps it in his boot. It’s saved his ass so many times. It’s basically a portable Geralt if Geralt was made completely of steel and was really thin and not a brick wall and-

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier looks at Geralt who’s already looking at him with what could be a smile on his face. But the darkness- oh the fire died- is making it hard to see.

“What were you humming?”

Jaskier tilts his head, _uh_ , that’s not something he used to do before he met Geralt, “I was humming?”

Geralt does a sound that could either be a snort or that he tried to clear his nose. He takes a long branch and uses it to poke at the almost dead fire.

Jaskier sighs, “I’m gonna get more wood.”

He goes to get up but he feels a hand on his wrist gently pulling him back, he sits back down facing Geralt who doesn’t let go of his wrists but moves his grip to take his hand. 

Jaskier doesn’t understand what is going on. Did Geralt get hit with a curse is this actually a doppler? Is Geralt in danger-

“Jaskier.” Geralt smiles.

This time Jaskier can see that it’s a smile, a real genuine smile. The kind that can light a face no matter the darkness surrounding it. It glows with fondness from the inside and makes the stars above seem dim in comparison. 

With his free hand, Geralt plucks a little blue flower from the forest floor and puts it behind Jaskier’s ear. He fluidly continues his movement to caress Jaskier’s jaw.

Jaskier is transfixed. He’s never seen Geralt from this close before. Even in the shadows, he can see details that he’d never imagined. The little scar on Geralt’s lip, the happy crinkle on the side of his eyes and- _are those freckles?-_ very lightly dusting his nose and his cheeks. 

Geralt closes his eyes and kisses him.

It’s soft and wet and messy. But it’s also the first and the last note in a symphony. It’s the feeling you get when you dare to walk out into the rain. It’s the freedom you feel from breaking the rules and the lack of guilt when you get caught, it’s, it’s-

It should not be happening.

It isn’t right.

Jaskier is a shadow and he will disappear one day, either Julian will die or he’ll be forcibly called back to his heel. He can’t give Geralt hope and have it being ripped from his fingers without a word. He knows that Geralt would try to find him, would stop at nothing. But he would search for the rest of his long life because shadows aren’t real and they leave no trace when the darkness comes in. 

He also cannot tell Geralt of what he really is. He knows what people think of shadows. They don’t think they are people, only servants, playthings, things to own. Geralt would never look at his the same way again, he would reject him and bring him back to Julian. 

Better to reject Geralt and stay then accept and break both their hearts in the long run.

He stops returning the kiss and slowly leans back. He hopes he doesn’t look too heartbroken on the outside. It wouldn’t be good to make Geralt think that he has any chance. He’s fighting the tears that he can feel trying to well up. He cannot let them pour out. 

Geralt leans in again but Jaskier puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him from getting too close to him.

Geralt looks confused, “Did….did I read things wrong?”

Jaskier braces himself, “Yes.”

He can see the happiness disappear from Geralt’s eyes. He feels like a monster, destroying everything good in his path, killing innocents, burning villages. He feels worse than he’s ever felt before. It’s like he’s been stabbed with a triple edged sword in his guts. He just got a wound that would never heal only fester. He had everything in his hands and he crushed it. He knows it is the right decision but it still hurts. 

Jaskier does wonder, though, will he see Geralt be happy again after tonight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My fic is a cheese full of (plot)hole but it's my cheese and I love it


	3. He slipped away, like a bottle of wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier tries to make things go back to normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Labour day update because I felt like it.  
> It's still hurt the bois time (it's hurt the bois times all day every day)

Jaskier tries.

He tries to make things go back to normal. He talks and sings and touches. He doesn’t let his heartbreak show. He cannot show how the wound in his guts is festering with guilt and regret. He needs to bear through the pain of maggots devouring his heart little by little. He tries to be the friend Geralt deserves. 

Geralt goes back into his shell. There are no more flowers and no more smiles. Only red eyes and fast steps. Oh, how Geralt must feel, forced to travel with the man who broke his heart. Does he think Jaskier made a fool out of him? Does he hate Jaskier now?

Should Jaskier leave?

Would that be the good thing to do? Let Geralt grieve his love? Let him bury it deep in the earth, give it a eulogy and let Geralt heal slowly. Meet him in a few years when Geralt will have forgotten?

Jaskier does try to leave one night. He packs his things, puts his lute in her case and waits for Geralt to come back for his hunt. He will say goodbye, Jaskier would never leave without saying goodbye. 

Geralt comes into the room, takes one look at his packed things, drops his swords on the ground and starts unpacking everything. Jaskier doesn’t even complain about the dirt and the blood on Geralt’s hands. He knows that Geralt wants him there, he’ll take all the blood, all the drowner brains and all the dirt if he can stay. 

Jaskier tries to make things go back to normal.

He sings louder, talks more, smiles at Geralt and never thinks of leaving again.

He walks faster beside roach on the roads, he washes Geralt’s hair with more care and he buries his love deep in the ground, hoping that it’ll stay in the dark.

He tries to help the most he can, tries to carry his own weight, tries to take a bit of the burden of the road. He’s not very good at it.

He trips on cracks in the road. He tries to help back Geralt’s things but he ends up breaking some things. He buys him a little wood knife to make it up to Geralt.

Geralt looks at him funnily, “You can stop.”

“Stop? I don’t understand Geralt? I cannot stop being the best bard on the continent! After all the one who-”

“Jaskier, stop. You don’t need to do anything more than be with me.”

“Oh.”

Maybe Jaskier had exaggerated in his attempts to make things go back to how they were. Maybe the answer isn’t to leave or to do more but just be himself.

He tries again to make things go back to normal.

He keeps the little wood knife even if he cannot use it. He needs his fingers to play the lute and under no circumstance can he wound them. He keeps it to remember that friendship is hard and that he needs to work on it as you work on a piece of wood carving, slowly and lovingly. 

They follow the path day after day. They sleep in the dirt of the road. They eat at the same campfire and share body heat when the night is cold. Geralt goes on hunts and when he comes back Jaskier takes care of him as a friend would. 

But Jaskier can see the way that Geralt looks at him sometimes. His eyes full of longing and sadness. He needs to make Geralt forget about him, he needs to find something that would give Geralt a break from the road, a break from him for a few hours. Get him drunk, get him some company. Make him have a good time.

Coincidently, he gets an invitation to a royal party. He invites Geralt. It’s the best place to relax after all. Geralt would get a night full of free ale. There would be no monsters, no need to look over his shoulder all the time. He would get a real bed for the night, paid for by the crown, and he could find some company for the night (please no, anything but that). All he had to do is be there, he could even hide in the back to drink and eat.

Nothing can go wrong, it’s a boring noble party after all. Nothing ever happens at these things.

He was wrong. 

A man bursts into the hall covered from head to toe. 

“Forgive my late intrusion, Your Majesty, and the misunderstanding with your guards!” 

Jaskier wonders how an intruder could have passed through all the castle without being stopped. He does not have the armour of the Cintran royal guards so it is impossible he could have gone unnoticed but he is not armed so he must not have been into many fights on his way to the ballroom. Perhaps he had help from the inside?

The man advances to the middle of the ballroom and pleads for peace and a moment of Queen Calanthe’s time. He kneels on the lavish mosaic, raises his masked face. His obscured eyes seem to bore into Calanthe’s own.

“I am Lord Urcheon of Erlenwald, and I have come to claim your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Well, then.

That is  _ quite _ the claim. 

Jaskier looks at Calanthe. She looks more perplexed than anything else. He’d thought she’d be furious at having a backwater knight barge into her daughter’s betrothal feast and claim her hand. The Queen has never been known for her calm temperament, the impaled heads at the entrance of Cintra (and the bodies of the elves fertilizing her fields) can attest to that. 

He sees Jarl Tuirseach walking towards the knight- Jaskier must have missed something while he was stuck in his thoughts- and ripping the helm of the man’s head. 

The crowd gasps, horrified.

What stands before them does not look entirely like a man. It looks like a weird cross between a hedgehog and a man-a hedgetaur? a cenhog?- with gray skin, a snout and spikes instead of hair (oh, his poor,  _ poor _ mother). He may look like a monster but Jaskier has travelled with Geralt long enough that things aren’t always as they seem.

Calanthe tries to order Geralt to kill the manhog (Jaskier really has no clue what to call the knight), but he replies that the knight is not a monster. He is simply cursed. 

Then, the Queen orders the knight to be slain and the guards attack the knight. He fights well for an outnumbered man. Jaskier tries to see more of the battle but his sight is blocked by the guests, who are also trying to see. He cannot see what happens to the knight but he sees Geralt calmy getting up from his place, picking up a sword and joining the fray.

After that, everything becomes a blur. Swords clash, people scream, blood splatters the floor. Jaskier tries to help the noblewomen and the servants as much as he can, urging them towards the side of the hall and protecting them with his body. After all, he’s not a real person it doesn’t matter if he gets hurt. 

Jaskier hears the Queen scream for the fight to stop, he looks at her for a second but his gaze is immediately transported to Geralt. Is he hurt? Does he know how stupid and brave he is? Could he stop being the best man Jaskier has ever known so that his heart can heal?

And through all the explanations about the late King, the law of surprises and the many details of the story that Jaskier will certainly regret not listening to most closely, Jaskier can only look at Geralt. His hands, his face, his hair, his eyes. But Geralt does not look at him, he looks at the young couple fervently embracing each other, eyes full of adoration. They could have had that-no, no use into thinking of what could have been. 

He ought to stay focused on the present, on the scene in front of him. Of Calanthe suddenly unsheathing a dagger from her side and trying to plunge it in the kights throat, of the Princess letting out a desperate wail.

He hits the wall. 

The wind howls resoundingly around them never stopping, never waning. He can’t hear anything. It shoves dust in his face and barely lets him see his surroundings, only shadows. It is powerful and magical. It makes his very being tremble so much that he’s slightly afraid that he could be dematerializing. 

Geralt! Where’s Geralt?

He needs to go to him! Jaskier knows he won’t be able to do much but he can serve as a meat shield if nothing. The world needs the Witcher, the world does not need Jaskier. He blindly finds the wall and pushes himself up against the strength of the tempest. He can’t stay upright and he falls to his knees.

“Fuck!” he cries out, but the sound is swallowed by the wind.

He really is useless. A stupid shadow that can’t even stand up to go help the man he loves. 

Then, the world becomes dark. Dark and silent.

No light penetrates the room, no sound resonates from its high ceilings. He knows this place. This lightless and soundless place. He remembers it. For almost seven years he’d been trapped in it, admittedly he didn’t know anything else. He remembers what it felt to stay in the dark place for so long, to feel crushing loneliness but not having a name for it. He remembers the cold of that place seeping into him.

But what he remembers most is the first time he saw the light. The bright sun fading into the horizon and the moon taking its place in the sky. However, the brightest light of them all was seeing Julian’s face for the first time. It had filled him with warmth and blinding love like he didn’t know existed.

Just like how he feels right now as he sees Geralt slowly stepping out of the shadows. He tries to catch his eye but Geralt is focused on the scene in the middle of the destroyed hall.

What a mess. 

What a horrible mess. Not just the hall. That was going to be taken care of by the hundred of hard-working servants of the castle. They most probably wouldn’t even get any thanks out of this. The political situation just went tits-up. Jaskier wonders just  _ how _ Calanthe is going to explain what happened here today to all the representatives from other countries. No doubt with violence but….maybe with Tuiseach as consort things would get better?

Maybe this night could also be salvaged for him and Geralt? Maybe they could take the rest of the night off, leave this place and go walk by the water-side? Just spend some time together.

Geralt claims the law of surprise like an  _ idiot  _ and the Princess vomits on the floor.

Fuck

“Fuck” Geralt whispers. 

He turns and leaves the hall, not once turning around to see if Jaskier is alright or to make sure that he’s following. He doesn’t even give him the tiniest of glance, just completely ignores him. Well, Geralt has clearly gotten over him.

That’s good, that’s what he wanted.

(No it’s not).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to my wonderful beta doings god's work, like always


	4. An apple for your tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows that voice.
> 
> He knows that face. Stella. 
> 
> “Stella.”, he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always big thank you to my lovely beta who I would kill for.  
> I wrote this chapter thinking that it would be angstless but alas, I am afraid that I'm just subconsciously putting angst wherever I go.  
> Also if you haven't seen that I update the tags at each chapter, please check them. I'm not going to be adding any big archive warning or anything but I would rather you guys check to see if I haven't added something that squicks you out (also not adding them to hide a plot twist or anything I just....dont know what I'll be writing in each chapter except from plot points so....yeah.)  
> Enjoy.

Jaskier goes back to their room at their inn, he finds it empty.

He was sure that Geralt would at least have waited for him before leaving Cintra. He was sure that Geralt would have at least  _ told him  _ before leaving. He was sure Geralt was a friend.

Now he’s not even sure of that.

He still stays the night, hoping that Geralt would come back for him. That he’d wake him up at the ass-crack of dawn by ripping the blankets off of him, like he used to do sometimes when Jaskier wouldn't wake up. Geralt would explain that he needed time alone and that he went on a hunt close by but that he’d never leave without Jaskier.

They’d go back on the path together. Jaskier would sing, Geralt would grunt and they would both smile as the sun rose into the sky.

In reality, Jaskier wakes up past noon.

He packs his things in silence and puts his lute into her case. 

He doesn’t feel like singing this morning. 

He doesn’t feel like doing anything really. But he knows that he needs to leave Cintra before The Lioness realizes that the bard was the one who invited the Witcher to the betrothal. 

He leaves Cintra not an hour after, passing by the heads at the gates. He can’t stop looking back at the castle in the distance. He should have never brought Geralt here. He’d thought it would fix them but it only broke them. He chuckled ruefully, what a huge fucking mess. He didn’t think anything could go wor-.

“Watch out!”

A carriage passes at high speed through a deep water puddle and douses him from head to toe. He sighs, damn that Destiny. What more would they lay at his feet?

The carriage stops 

“By the light. Are you alright sir?”, says a voice, the kind of voice you imagine would have a career at reading poems. 

He knows that voice.

He wipes the muddy water from his eyes and turns to look. A beautiful woman peeks her head out of the carriage’s window. Her skin is a beautiful deep brown colour and she wears a complicated headdress that seems to make a halo of white fabric behind her head. It is decorated with a multitude of precious stones that reflect the afternoon sun. 

He knows that face. Stella.

“Stella.”, he whispers.

“Jaskier? By Melitele it is you! Come, come, get in!”

He freezes. 

Stella De Stael. The countess. Julian’s former betrothed. His friend? He can’t be sure, everything is such a game at court and he hasn’t seen Stella since he left Lettenhove, oh so many years ago. Should he get in? If he does he risks being taken back to Julian by force. He could probably talk Stella out of it? She always had a soft spot for him.

If he runs away the carriage will not follow, he’s sure. But Stella would definitely tell someone at court and the word would reach Julian. He’d send mercenaries after Jaskier and they would track and catch him easily. 

In both cases, he ends up back with Julian. He’ll definitely choose the most comfortable way to get there.

He steps into the carriage.

Stella’s face illuminates with a smile and she grabs his hand, “If you were not dripping wet I would take you in my arms, old friend.” 

Jaskier feels the urge to rip his hand out of hers, but that would be impolite so he fidgets with his rings instead. 

“Hello, Stella.”

Her smile seems to get even bigger, she really does have a nice smile. She has one crooked tooth on the right side of her mouth. On any other noble it would be judged horrible and worthy of sneers but on her, it only makes her approachable and impish to others. 

“I did not think I would ever see you again my friend. I am so happy to see you well.” She furrows her delicate brows, “ Things have not been going...great in Lettenhove since you left.” She let’s go of his hand and starts to gesture with hers, “Well, the economy and the people are going incredible. Better than they have in decades, but...but..you..you do know who I am talking about right?”

Jaskier nods “Julian.”

“Julian.” She swallows, “He has not been himself since you left. He has been cold and reclusive. No one has been able to reach him, except his old disgusting advisors, for months now.” She plays with her elaborate pearl and diamond necklace, “And even before he secluded himself he was...mean. He made little Abella cry.”

Little Abella. The baker’s daughter. That child was the most adorable little thing. She always had a smile for everyone and she dragged flour wherever she went. She must be- what- sixteen now? He remembers that anyone who made her smile wane was treated like a criminal until they apologized. But to make her cry? That was a death sentence.

She can’t seem to look at him in the eyes, “Do you think you could go see him? Bring back warmth to his life. I am sure he misses you.”

“No.”

She blinks, “No? I- why?”

“To make a long story short he did not change when I left and I will not let myself become a prisoner.”

“Oh, oh Julian!” She cries out, “What could have happened to him? He was so full of hopes and dreams. He was the only person at court that was not a stuffed up bastard.”

“I don’t know Stella but I mourn that man every day.”

Stella sighs, “Well, I believe you would not want me to talk about our meeting?”

He pleads, “Please.”

“Very well, I shall not tell a soul, but “ She looks at him with her deep dark eyes, “I am going to my estate in the countryside for a short time. I would be honoured if you would join me.”

Jaskier smiles, “I’d like that.”

*

He spends the next few months at Stella’s country estate. He finds a real friend in her. They have many common interests and they can discuss them extensively. But they don’t need to. They can do their own thing at their own pace and still feel like they are passing time together. He sings for her, she sings for him. He writes her some songs and she writes him some poems. 

Stella opens up to him slowly. She explains why she had broken her engagement to Julian. She fell in love, plain and simple. She fell in love with her court mage. Sabrina her name had been. Blonde hair, blue eyes and an explosive temper hidden behind a facade of calm (and after a few bottles of wine she confesses that  _ she had the most incredible tits _ ). 

They had a hidden affair and Stella realized that she didn’t want to live her life without Sabrina. She had, thus, ended the political engagement she had with Julian. She had a dagger prepared as an engagement gift. She had prepared everything to go perfectly, the only thing that was missing was Sabrina herself.

She never came.

The next day she received a letter from the brotherhood. It had said that Sabrina had been placed in another court because they had heard that there was a conflict of interest within the court. That was, apparently, unacceptable (as if the brotherhood didn’t have any of those). There had also been thinly veiled threats if either of them tried to contact the other.

She cries while telling him that story and he holds her close. He passes his hand through her thick curly hair and wipes her tears away. She asks him to stay with him that night, he stays with her and he sings her songs until she’s done crying herself to sleep.

The next morning she thanks him for being there for her. She calls him her  _ dearest _ friend. She tells him that she loves him. 

Jaskier tells her that he loves her too and she flings herself into his arms.

They pass the rest of the day in the orchard, running around and laughing like children and eating juicy apples until their hands become sticky with juice. They come back as the sun touches the treetops in its voyage to reach the ground. They are dirty and happy. 

They clean up in Stella’s monstrous bath. She washes his hair and he washes her back, she won’t let him even  _ touch _ her hair, something about how he doesn’t understand the care her type of hair needs. They are comfortable with each other and their friendship is so strong. Not even a hurricane could move them.

So Jaskier tells her everything.

He tells her what he is. A shadow, Julian’s shadow. She is silent, looking at him over her book - _ The Rise and Fall of the Economic empire of The Vault of Vivaldis- _ without judgment, only acceptance. 

He tells her everything. How he fled from Lettenhove, from Julian. How he slept in the streets for months after that. He talks about Oxenfurt, through bouts of laughter. He never had anyone to tell his college shenanigans to (not even Geralt). It feels  _ good _ . To know that he is being  _ genuinely  _ listened to. That Stella finds his stories interesting. 

He tells her about that time he pantsed Valdo Marx in the middle of his presentation about the evolution of string instruments in the last two centuries. Of course, he got caught, it was worth it.

He tells her about his first heartbreak. Funnily, he can’t even remember her name. He does remember the sound of her laugh and the smell of her perfume. 

Then he talks about his time alone on the road. The mud and the people. The monsters.

How he almost got eaten by a pack of alghouls in his first few weeks. But a Witcher saved him, it flew in the pack and destroyed it, or that was what Jaskier thought. The Witcher had fallen to his knees in the mud. Jaskier had run to him with no more of his usual wariness of Witcher (as a shadow he had to be wary of Witchers, they did hunt monsters). But after someone saves your life, you just trust them. He had seen the witcher fighting to get air into his lungs, his eyes had been going wild. He was scared. He was going to die. 

So Jaskier had done the only thing he could. 

He had held the Witcher’s and sang him a lullaby as he watched the light fade from the Witcher’s eyes. 

He had cried for this stranger. For this  _ person _ that had had most definitely an awful life and a worst death. 

He’d promised himself that he would find a way to give Witchers a good reputation.

Then Geralt.

Geralt had saved him from going back to Julian and had given him a way to fulfill his promise. 

He tells her about Geralt. Geralt’s eyes, his smile, his smell, the feel of his hand on his own. The way he had kissed him that night. How Jaskier had rejected him.

Stella calls him a fool for that. He agrees. 

He talks about Cintra, he doesn’t have much to say about that place, except that Geralt left him.

She closes her book and looks at him, “You are a fool Jaskier. You love that man and you need to tell him, believe me, you will regret it if you do not even try. You cannot make the choice for him, Jaskier. You need to tell him the truth and let him choose, choose to leave or choose to stay. The choice is his, now go to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really respect writers who can write a whole novel in the notes.  
> Me? if I'm done writing a chapter I lose 3/4 of my vocabulary.  
> oh and I made myself want to write more about Stella and Sabrina..like a nice happy ending kind of story  
> I like my queer gals having good endings


	5. Bed of lilacs, bed of lies: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There he is! The man he was looking for! In the flesh! 
> 
> “Hello! I, my friend, have been looking for you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back at it again!!  
> Bad news this is the last of the prewritten chapters...and I'm neck deep in studies (anyone knows why the ATP is a good molecule to keep and transport energy in the cell?) So there is probably not going to be a chapter update next week :(   
> And I don't know when I'm going to have time to continue but it Will be continued of that have no doubt!  
> As always thank you to my wonderful beta (I love you)

Jaskier leaves the next morning, with a mighty hangover. Stella had insisted they have a parting celebration. After all, they didn’t know when they would see each other again. The Countess would have to go back to court soon. She couldn’t very well leave her responsibilities forever, even if she did want to. Jaskier would need time to find Geralt, The Witcher moved around a lot. He followed only the call of the notice boards filled with monster contracts. 

So Stella had gotten some exquisite Toussaint red out of her cellar. It was rich and fruity without being too sweet. Those people really knew how to make wine.

They may have had a bottle too much….or maybe two….or three.

Anyway.

He has a terrible headache. He’s nauseous and the only thing he wants to do is lie down in bed and sleep until the sun burns out.

But he knows that if he stays one more day at Stella’s estate he will lose all his courage (liquid or other) and never leave.

He starts to walk, slowly, one foot in front of the other. It’s going to be a long road.

He goes from village to village, town to town playing and singing. He had forgotten how much he loves it.

The atmosphere, the people, the  _ music _ . 

It brings back a little flame of hope in him. He  _ will _ find Geralt and he  _ will  _ confess his love. And if Geralt really has gotten over him then it will be alright. He has his lute, his music and a friend in his corner, nothing bad can happen to him.

He gets robbed in Vengerberg.

He really should not have thought himself invincible, Destiny always comes back to bite you in the ass for that. 

The only things that the bandits left him were his clothes, his lute and a bloody woodworking knife. No more money, no more emergency booze. What a tragedy.

He changes his route, he was supposed to go up to Kaedwen, but everyone knows that there is no good alcohol there. The best thing you can find is, probably, fermented bear piss. And they have no respect for music, so he won’t be putting coins in his pockets. He really does not want to be a broke bard in Kaedwen. 

He makes way for Redania. They at least have a decent appreciation for music and, surprisingly, some good wines.

*

Rinde is such a nice town. The people love his music! They clap and they cheer and demand encore over encore. They are also wonderful hosts and keep giving him more ale or wine or whatever that was. 

It tastes good though, so he chugs the whole thing.

“My loyal public! I must, unfortunately, leave you! I am but a simple and humble travelling bard and I have been so touched by your welcome and you booze! But, alas, I must go back out into the world to find my lost muse! Inspiration waits for no bard after all. But do not be saddened, I will most definitely come back to you, adoring public!” Jaskier blows the crowd a kiss and almost falls down from the table from which he is standing.

Gods, he needs to go vomit.

Jaskier steps outside the tavern and heads toward the river. He vomits on the side of the path and takes a drink of whatever is in the flask that he brought with him,  _ Vomir c’est repartir,  _ as the Toussaintois would say 

“ ‘Cause you all know that this bard,” He sings’ “Loved ladies from Nillfgaard, cause Nilfgaard can kiss my- Geralt!”

There he is! The man he was looking for! In the flesh! 

“Hello! I, my friend, have been looking for you!”

Geralt doesn’t even turn to look at him from whatever he’s doing.

“How long has it been? Months, years? What is time, anyway?”

Jaskier takes another drink of the flask, does this thing lose strength after a few sips? Or is he drunker than he thought? He extends the flask toward Geralt. 

“Do you want some? I don’t know what it is but if I could taste anything anymore I think it would taste good.”

Geralt grunts.

“I’ll take that as a no then. More for me.” He finishes the flask and throws it on the river bank. He’ll come get it later, “How are you doing, Jaskier? I hear you ask!”

“I didn’t” Geralt replies completely focused on his tasks

“Well the Countess De Stael, my muse and beauty of this world has given me the courage to finally do something about my situation. You see Geralt, I-where are you going?! Geralt?”

Geralt is going down the river bank with his net. Jaskier quickly follows after him. No way is he going to lose sight of that man. At least, not until he’s told Geralt everything. Then if it ends up going badly he can lose sight of him for a few years.

“Are you trying to fish, old friend? Oh, are we not using ‘friend’? After you left me in the dust at Cintra I’m really not sure anymore. Geralt you are great at many things but clearly communication and fishing are not some of them.”

Geralt continues to  _ not _ look at him-Is his face that horrible to look at- and throws his net once more into the river.

“What are you even fishing? Is it cod? Carp? Pike? ….Roach? By Melitele did Roach fall in the river? “ He puts his hand to his mouth in a funnel shape to make his voice more clearly heard and screams, “We’re coming for you girl! Don’t lose hope!”

“Jaskier, shut up.” grunts Geralt as he throws his net in the river. “I’m not fishing. I can’t sleep”

Jaskier fidgets with his rings, “Right, good. That-that makes sense. Insomuch that it...doesn’t. What’s going on Geralt talk to me.”

Geralt sighs and finally,  _ finally  _ looks at him, “A Djinn.”

“What.”

“I’m looking,” Geralt bends down to rummage at the net, “For a Djinn.”

“A-a djinn? Like a genie?” Jaskier leans on a tree, “Like the floaty blue people that have bad tempers and banned magic?”

“Yes. It’ll grant me wishes.” Geralt gets up and looks at him with a wild look in his eyes” It’s in this lake somewhere. And I can’t fucking sleep!” 

Geralt takes his empty net and goes somewhere else on the riverbank to continue fishing for his Djinn. 

Jaskier grunts as he gets off the tree and goes to follow Geralt, “Has it occurred to you, that maybe we’re just, ah, rubbing salve on a tumour? Not, hm, addressing the root of the problem. The Law of Surprise? Destiny? Not being able to escape the child that belongs to you? Ring any bells?

Geralt throws his net, yet again, in the river, “No! It’s not that.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But what if you’re not.”

Geralt turns to look at him a look of complete exasperation on his face.

“Humour me Geralt.” He sits on the stump of a tree, “What if you’re not.” 

Geralt repeats,”It’s not  _ that _ .”

That man is so fucking stubborn. Jaskier is pretty sure that this is Destiny trying to make him go back to the child. You can’t escape Destiny forever. It will catch up to you one day, no matter how hard you try. But there is no reasoning with a sleep-deprived man.

“Very well. I could sing you a lullaby?”

Geralt stops foraging through his net, “That would make me want to die rather than sleep.”

“Geralt, what does that mean?”

Geralt only looks at him.

“Oh...oh no, no, no, no.” Jaskier gets up, “We are so having this conversation.” He goes to place himself right behind Geralt, “Come on, Geralt, be honest, how’s my singing?”

Jaskier places his hands on his hips and looks at Geralt with a frown. That man better not say shit about his singing. Jaskier would fight him. He would not win but he would definitely fight. 

“It’s like ordering a pie and finding that it has no filling.”

The nerve of that man! Jaskier’s singing had paid him more baths in a decade than he had taken in the last century! His singing had gotten them room and food. And he  _ dares _ ? He  _ dares? _

Jaskier recoils as if he’d been hit and gasps, “Wh-ah-hrg- You! Need a nap!” He turns around, he cannot look at that man right now, “Are you trying to hurt my feelings Geralt? It’s downright indecorous of you and-”

He hears that Geralt has stopped rummaging and turns around to look at him once more.

He approaches The Witcher to take a better look at what he has in his hands“-What is that.”

“It’s a wizard’s seal” grunts Geralt as he rubs the plug of the amphora. “The Djinn.”

Jaskier extends his hands, “Do you mind if I-” and grabs the Amphora.

“Jaskier.”

Geralt does not sound happy. But neither is Jaskier! And he will not back down!

Jaskier points his finger at Geralt. “Take back what you said about the pie.” He pulls at the amphora, “Take it back and you get your djinny-djinn-djinn.”

Geralt stares at him and pulls the amphora toward him slightly “Let go.”

That man has some extreme strength and while in other situations it would be arousing here it’s just annoying because Jaskier pulls with a lot of effort on the amphora and Geralt does not move! He isn’t making any effort and is pulling back the amphora towards him when Jaskier is trying to keep it.

“No, you let go! You-you horse’s arse!”

The plug is removed from the amphora with  _ plop _ . And nothing happens.

Jaskier shakes the amphora and turns it upside down to see if something could be in the bottom but nothing falls from it. 

“That’s a bit of an anticlimax-”

Then the breeze starts to pick up and the sky darkens considerably, but no clouds are obstructing the sun and the sky is still blue.

“-Or is it.” 

Jaskier has the amphora, he has freed the Djinn. He has the wishes. He could wish for anything...He could become human.

“Djinn!” Jaskier starts, “I have freed thee, therefore I shall make my wishes. Firstly, may Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris, be struck down with apoplexy and die.”

That would serve that thieving bastard right. Stealing other bards works and making it pass as his own while destroying the reputation and careers of so many young people. So many had thrown their lives away in desperation. It wouldn’t give all the destroyed careers back to their respective owners but it would give them revenge. 

“Secondly, The Countess de Stael must be able to reunite with her lost love without anyone being able to stop them from being together. Thirdly-”

“Jaskier.”

He suddenly gets grabbed by the collar of his doublet and dragged backwards “-wha--”

“Stop!” grunts Geralt. “ There are only three wishes.”

“Oh, come on Geralt. Let me just- you don’t need to wish for sleep- let me have the third wish.”

Let him become human. Please.

“Let me have some damn peace!” Roars Geralt.

He wants peace! He wants some peace. Jaskier will give it his gods dammed peace. He’ll leave Geralt the fuck alone! Like the witchers wants! Right, isn’t that what he wants, to be rid of Jaskier?!

“Well, here’s your damn peace” Jaskier screams and smashes the amphora on the ground.

Geralt gives him the patented witcher scary face and bends down to pick the pieces of the shattered amphora. Jaskier turns around and starts to make his way back towards the village, the wind whistling in his ears.

He doesn’t make it far. 

His legs give out under him. He tries to grab a branch. His hand passes through it. He looks at himself, he’s transparent. He’s fading. Jaskier is going back to being a shadow. A real two dimensional, stuck to someone kind of shadow. No, _no._ He can’t- he hasn’t told Geralt that he loves him yet. He can’t die while they’re mad at each other. He can’t- he can’t see.

The colours are gone. It’s so dark...so dark and cold.

“Geralt.” He whispers, “Please, Geralt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry guys  
> Also fun fact "Vomir, c'est repartir" means vomiting is going again  
> And it is a real thing people say at parties in my uni :)


	6. Interlude: Outro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier knows this darkness. He knows this cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After three months I am finally updating! I wasn't really supposed to be writing but I ah decided that my ornithology lab could be put off for a time oops?  
> Also please mind the new tag :)

…

….

…..

_ Geralt? _

There is no sound

There is no light

The is….nothing

Jaskier knows what this is, what this not-place is. He knows this darkness, this cold. If he could breathe he would be able to see the condensation of his breath. If he had fingers he knows they would be frozen and blue. If he had anything left of himself he knows he would be shaking.

But he cannot do anything. He is soaring in the darkness. He is sinking in the light. He is floating in the place in between them. 

He doesn't want to be here.

_ Please, please don’t leave me here. _

Jaskier wants to be next to a burning fire, he wants to be sitting on the cool grass and looking at the flames as they try to grab the moon. He wants to see the sparks fly, going high then descending ever so slowly by his side. He wants to touch the little dark spot it leaves in the grass and feel the residual heat on the tip of his fingers. He wants to look through the fire into Geralt’s eyes. 

He knows what they would look like. They wouldn't be burning bright like the campfire, nor would they be shining like the sparks but they would be warm. They would - and they had- make Jaskier feel warm. It would start in the middle of his chest and grow. It would reach out through him trying to find every cranny of what he has instead of a soul. It would spread in his limbs and his face (making him blush but he would blame it on the heat of the flame). It would be warm and hopeful.

The feeling disappears.

If he had a throat he would have choked on his sobs.

_ Please come for me.  _

Jaskier knows that it is impossible. No matter how much Geralt would search he wouldn't be able to find him. And even if he did...there is no summoning a shadow back to the physical plane a second time. Not without some serious repercussions. He knows, he’s done his research. He would be brought back in pieces, maybe his body or maybe his soul (does he even have a soul). He wouldn’t survive more than a few days. He would flicker in and out of existence as the world chose what to do with him. It would hurt.

He’s afraid of the pain. He’s always been weak. He cried from scraped knees when he was a child and the habit of letting fat tears flow down his cheeks at the tiniest amount of pain did not leave him as an adult. The number of times he had sobbed at Geralt from the tiniest of wounds. 

He knows he is a burden but still, he does not want to disappear.

None of his books ever said what happened to the shadows after that. Only that their masters never recuperated them and continued to live their lives shadowless. 

_ I don’t want to go. _

It is a worse fate than the one he is experiencing right now. Slightly.

At least here, he still is. 

His nose itches. 

He tries to scratch it but-

Oh, that’s right.

He doesn’t have a nose anymore.

It’s still itching. How can his nose itch when he doesn’t have a nose? It’s not stopping.  _ It’s not stopping _ . It spreads on his whole face and under his eyes. The itch starts to become pinches, then scratches. It feels like something is trying to rip the skin off his face.  **He doesn’t have any skin.**

It hurts. It’s not supposed to hurt. He wants to cry, wants to bawl his eyes out. He wants Geralt. Jaskier wants Geralt to come for him. Geralt can take the pain away.

_ Please. _

_ It hurts. _

Jaskier feels so powerless. The hurt and cold fight against each other, moving like eels under his skin. Clashing until his whole being is being torn apart by the needles of frost and the claws of darkness. Then the crackling starts. It explodes in his head carving a way through his brain, neuron by neuron. He can feel them each after the other  _ bam bam bam _ . A firework of destruction lighting his mind and pulling him deeper into the darkness. 

He hurts until his whole world is agony. He hurts until he doesn’t remember his name, doesn’t remember to be until there is nothing to hurt. Hurts until there is nothing anymore. 

…….

……..

He thinks he smells the grass at the edge of the sea. He’s sure he can hear a laugh urging him along. He wants to run after that laugh. Jaskier has a feeling he’s going to be late to something but he can’t bring himself to care too much. He laughs soundlessly as happiness bubbles in him.

He almost forgot what happiness felt like. 

Jaskier knows that his happiness comes from a memory, a good memory, one that this place is trying to rip it out of him.

He tries to remember the feeling of the sand in his toes and the sound of the gulls crying overhead. The image of a smile on his first friend’s face. He tries to remember the way he felt the love that they shared before it all burned.

He’s ashamed but he wishes he could have seen Julian one last time, thrown one last stone to the sea with him. Watched as it ricochets and ricochets and ri-

…….

………..

Jaskier chokes on the blood of the world as he grasps frantically the pieces of his mind. They are scattering in the gray space beyond. They are not part of him anymore.

He is being remade in the way he was supposed to be at the start. This place does not take kindly to strangers and even less to those who have escaped. 

Escape, what a joke.

He was forcefully dragged out of here. 

Jaskier used to just be. He wasn’t even Jaskier, he was a part of this place. He hadn’t known that there was a place outside of here. To be fair he hadn’t known anything.

He didn’t need to know anything, He just needed to do what he was made for. Be dragged behind, in front, over, under. On stones, in water, in blood and death. Never stray. Not like it was possible. Follow. Shadow. Shadow.  _ Shad- _

…

…….

……..

_ -ow.  _

He lost track of his thought. What was he thinking about? It couldn’t have been more than two seconds ago. 

He was- there was- he doesn’t know.

_ Uh. _

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost track of his thoughts like that. Maybe when he was drunk once or twice but he’s completely sober.

Well maybe not. He hadn’t quite sobered up by the time he had found G̶̢̟̪̼̑̇̄̒͠e̶̘̬̖̣̓̌̆͋̎ȑ̶͈̦͉͉̘̈́̿͝ạ̷̪͉̓̓̓̽ͅĺ̵͓͖̘̭͂̕ṱ̶̛͖̳̩͆̌͜ by the lake. Can you be drunk without a body? Is it only the brain? But the brain is part of the body so can someone be drunk without having any physical form. 

Probably not. He doesn’t feel drunk anyway.

Jaskier feels...not much. 

He’s not scared anymore. That makes him nervous. 

No matter what angle he looks at his predicament from, he still doesn’t feel scared. 

He doesn’t remember what fear feels like.

A sword raised high? A bleeding wound on a loved one’s side? A combination of words?

_ I love you. _

This should be terrifying. It should make him want the earth to swallow him whole. It should make his heart beat as fast as the wings of a thousand butterflies. Instead, Jaskier is only mildly nervous. 

Besides, what even is a butterfly. He’s not really sure, it certainly has wings. Maybe he can make a game of it. What would a butterfly look like? Wings, at least ten, and a single leg coming out from the middle of its body. Maybe it should also have ey-

….

…….

……..

He’s forgetting something.

Jaskier knows he’s forgetting something. He’s not quite sure what.

A melody?

_ Toss a coin to your Witcher. _

An instrument!

His lute, his beautiful sexy lute. He knows it more than he knows himself. The way it shines in the rising sun. The wood of its body and even the tiniest imperfection of the neck. The runes etched in times long past. The sounds it could produce. Songs. One song.

What is its melody, what are its words, what are its chords?

_ Oh, valley of plenty. _

Yes, that’s it. 

That’s the song. Where is it from? 

No matter, it’s quite a catchy song. He likes it.

_ When a humble bard _

_ Graced a ride along _

_ With- _

With who? What?

A horse maybe. Chesnut with a beautiful mane but horrible manners. An elf maybe? Trying to find a better life for his people but being so scared of losing what little he has left. Or maybe a queen? A warrior queen whose armour is drenched with the blood of her enemies. It doesn’t feel quite right. Another bard? No. That’s- no, anger blooms in him so suddenly that it destabilizes him and he feels himself move in the gray expanse of this universe. 

Jaskier is falling upward and climbing downwards, going forward but staying still, darting backwards and spinning around. 

He’s lost and he can’t remember who he graced a ride along with.

Well if he can’t remember it must not be that important.

….

…..

…..

_ Geralt! _

Oh, gods, he forgot Geralt. Jaskier tries to remember him more clearly. He cannot remember the colour of his eyes or the sound of his laughter. He doesn’t remember anything. 

He only knows that Geralt is important. Jaskier knows that he loves him. He doesn’t want to forget Geralt. 

Something grips his mind. It is dark and slithers around in his consciousness triggering alarms he didn’t even know existed.

What is this uncomfortable feeling? It makes Jaskier want to become very small and hide. It would make his heart beat and his limbs shake if he was in any way, physical. He knows that, if he had a body, he could feel cold sweat running down his back and making him shiver. It makes him want to flee but he cannot, there is nowhere to go.

He knows the name for that feeling.

Fear.

Jaskier is afraid of forgetting Geralt.

_ I won’t forget you. _

Geralt was- Geralt is his friend. Geralt has white hair. Geralt’s favourite colour is blue. Geralt’s eyes are the colour of the spring sun. His laugh is rough and underused but it is more beautiful than any symphony. 

He is in love with Geralt.

He remembers!

_ I remember you. _

Jaskier feels giddy. He remembers. Maybe he can remember more things?

Geralt has a horse named Roach. Geralt carries two swords with him. He has many tiny bottles full of horrible concoctions that help him with his job. His senses are better than the typical human. Geralt doesn’t like too loud noises and that’s why he didn't it like the time when Jaskier brought him to see Cidaris’ symphony orchestra.

A symphony. What is a symphony?

A sound. Many sounds in harmony. A movement of the soul into the world. An expression of the best humanity has to offer. It is beautiful and can make Jaskier  _ feel _ . 

Joy. Sadness. Hope. Nervousness. Lo-

…

….

…. 

_ I forgot _

What has he forgotten?

He forgets.

He forgets to remember.

He’s losing himself. He’s losing everything that makes him Jaskier.

He doesn’t remember his favourite colour or the scent of marigolds in gardens. He barely knows what a marigold is. 

He’s going to forget everything.

It is a certainty. 

He thought he could still be himself but he’s never had much luck. 

He doesn’t feel anything. 

Jaskier won’t let himself be erased without fighting one last battle. He’s never been a warrior but he will try. 

My name is Jaskier, I will not be forgotten.

My name is Jaskier, I will not be forgotten.

My name is Jaskier, I will not be forgot-

My name is Jaskier, I will not be f-

My name is Jaskier, I will not-

My name is Jaskier, I-

My name is Jaskier-

Jaskier

Jask-

_ Please don’t forget me. _

_ …. _

_ …… _

_ ……... _  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note that there is no major character death tag  
> and hopefully ill be able to post a new chapter before the new year :)))

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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